


Greed

by Phosphere



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: Ahzrukhal pretends to be a nice person, Charon deserves better, I'm not the best at dialogue, Manipulation, Other, Ratings may change, Reader-Insert, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Yandere, Yandere Ahzrukhal, You become friends with Charon through similar trauma, awkward forced cuddling, bad times, but he's not, gender nuetral reader, gross forced kissing, he's a nasty bastard, if I write smut it will probably be in a separate fic, lone deserves better, or tagging for that matter, so at least you got that going for ya, they just wanted to help, you get beat up but you don't die
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 07:57:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14911445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phosphere/pseuds/Phosphere
Summary: Charon struggles with the restraints of his contract as he is forced to watch a poor vault dweller learn the hard way that greed doesn't always apply to caps.





	1. Prologue

Things were rarely fair in the wasteland, but Charon couldn’t help the anger that filled him. They didn’t deserve this, the soft vault-dweller that had come searching for their father, checking anywhere they could, even in the most unlikely of places. Asking whoever would listen, even those least likely to know. They were loyal person with a good heart. A rarity, nowadays. Perhaps people like that were so uncommon because of those of the same ilk as his “employer,” the sick bastard responsible for all this.

They were polite and soft spoken, asking if anyone had seen or heard of their father. They asked establishment owners mostly, seeing as they’re the most likely to see newcomers and hear gossip. They also treated ghouls with a level of respect rarely seen from humans, even going out of their way to help some.

Basically, they were a sweetheart who treated the inhabitants of Underworld like people. And that made them memorable.

The look of fading hope in their eyes once they’d gotten their answers was hard to look at, but not unfamiliar. It’s what the wasteland did to people. They left on good terms with everyone they had met, and continued the search for their father. Nobody expected to see them again.

But before a month had passed, they returned. They gave a rather generous amount of scrap to Winthrop, offhandedly admitting they had intentionally kept him in mind while scavenging. They brought a message from Gob to Greta and Carol. They hadn't found their father, but they weren't going to give up.

Charon remembered the first time they had entered the 9th Circle. By then, word had spread enough that Ahzrukhal already knew what they were there for. A sleazy smirk grew on his face once he finally laid eyes on them. He gave his condolences when he told them he hadn't heard of their father, and offered them a drink on the house. It was a red flag only Charon could see. Ahzrukhal only gave people things for free if he felt he could get something else out of it.

Luckily, they declined, and went on their way. Ahzrukhal let out an irritated huff, clearly unhappy that whatever idea he had didn't work. And Charon, foolishly, believed that was the end of it.

But then they kept coming back. Whether it was to restock, sell, see Barrows(they arrived a bit roughed up on more than one occasion), or just to help out. Ahzrukhal managed to hold a conversation with them on multiple occasions, but they usually ended with the vaultie looking vaguely uncomfortable. Their visits lasted a couple days, and many people found, to their surprise, that they genuinely looked forward to the vaultie’s visits.

Unfortunately, one of those people was Ahzrukhal.

Charon's hatred for the current holder of his contract was nothing new, but damn if it didn't grow when he got the orders. On the day the human planned to leave, he was to abduct them and bring them to Ahzrukhal without anyone else seeing. He wasn't told why, and he grew worried. What would Ahzrukhal do to them? Sometimes, if he hated someone enough, he ordered Charon to bring them to him and kill them while he watched. But he had seemed fond of the human.

In the end, it didn't really matter. He had 48 hours to find some way to warn them without his boss knowing and the sooner he did it the better. He started by writing a simple note, explaining what he had been ordered to do and urging them to leave underworld as early as possible. Last, he wrote that Ahzrukhal would likely order him to pursue them.

But he still had to figure out how to get it to them. He couldn't just leave the bar, and if he gave it to someone else to give to them, there was a chance that person could talk. No, he had to get it to them himself. Thankfully, he got the perfect opportunity when they walked through the door.

Ahzrukhal greeted them as they approached. “Well look who it is. Always a pleasure to see you, despite your habit of sobriety. Have you finally come for a drink?”

They chuckled softly. “I appreciate it, but no. I'm sorry to say that I've actually come to take one of your patrons.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. Winthrop needs to see Patchwork about something, but he's busy so I'm doing him a favor.”

“I suppose I can forgive you just this once,” he joked. “But if this happens again, I might have a chat with Winthrop.”

They smiled, and went to where Patchwork was sitting. When Patchwork got up to go with them, it was revealed that he was too drunk to properly stand. As the vaultie struggled to hold him upright, Charon saw his chance. He approached the two, and with a nod from Ahzrukhal, helped the human take Patchwork to Winthrop. Once the two left, Charon held out the folded note. “You dropped this,” he said gruffly. They opened their mouth to say something, but the look in his eyes stopped them. They quietly thanked him, and they both went their separate ways.

And Charon thought that maybe, they would be alright.


	2. Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Name) is frightened, and takes Charon's advice. Ahzrukhal isn't pleased with their early departure.

(Name) was worried, to say the least. Getting a note stating that a sleazy man wants you to be taken to him, from the “bodyguard” of said man tends to set people on edge. What did Ahzrukhal have planned for them? How did they catch his attention in the first place? Had they done something wrong? It couldn't be. They'd sensed something wrong with him on day one, and remained cautious around him since. And once they learned of his more shady dealings, and the contract he held over Charon, they did their best to avoid him. It didn't always work, but they managed to remain polite. What could he possibly want from them?

In any case, it didn't matter. Charon likely put himself at risk when warning them, and they didn't want his efforts to be for nothing. They promised themselves that they'd return the favor eventually. But first, they had to get the hell out.

They went to their room at Carol’s Place, and packed their things. They thought about how to explain their early departure to Carol and Greta. They could always come clean and show the couple the note Charon wrote them, but they didn't know how far Ahzrukhal typically went with these things, and they didn't want either of them to be hurt. There was also the fact that it could land Charon in some metaphorical hot water of his own. With a sinking feeling in their chest, they realized that telling anyone would put them in danger. A fresh wave of anxiety erupted inside them. They were on their own.

They attempted to calm themselves, to resist the growing fear that now flowed freely through their veins. In the end, they couldn't, so they settled with masking their worry. They took a deep breath, gathered their things, and went to speak with Carol and Greta.

The interaction went surprisingly smoothly. They paid for the nights they had spent there, and nobody pried when they said they had to leave early. They exchanged good-byes, and left.

Once they were out of Underworld, they sped up. Once they were out of the museum, they ran. 

Ahzrukhal was livid when he found out that they had left. Luckily for Charon, he was unaware of his involvement, and too confident in the contract to suspect loopholes. But that didn't help the target.

“They're gone, Ahzrukhal,” Charon said. “Can't do anything about it.”

“This changes nothing,” he seethed. “You will still bring them to me.

“What makes you think I'll even be able to find them?” Charon retorted.

“That isn't my goddamn problem. It’s your job. You'll find them, and you'll take them here, even if you have to break their fucking legs.”

Charon winced as he felt the familiar urge to obey. He wished he could think of something, one last remark to throw at that bastard. But he didn't have anything, so all he could do was bear it and start his search. 

It wasn't hard to find them. He really wished it was. But the wasteland was full of aggressive creatures, all he had to do was search for the most recent signs of conflict. A new grenade blast here, a body there. Stray bullets that matched their gun. His stomach dropped when he found a scrap of fabric in a familiar shade of blue. When he bent down to pick it up, he noticed the blood that had soaked part of the cloth. It hadn't dried yet. They were somewhere nearby.

He tore his gaze from the vault suit scrap to look at the surrounding area. A few dead raiders, one of them with a blade. He checked, and sure enough, fresh blood. He almost hoped they were dead. Death was likely better than whatever Ahzrukhal had planned for them.

But in the end, they were still alive, hiding in an abandoned apartment building. They'd taken couch cushions and laid them on the floor, forming a sort of mattress that they laid on as they tried to treat the the gash in their side. As he approached them, he saw how hard they were trembling. A sweet face looked up at him, meeting his gaze as teardrops fell from their eyes.

“Ch-Charon…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is very late and I am very tired. Let me know if you see any typos


	3. Talks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charon and (name) talk about what they think will happen to them.

The vaultie wasn't in very good shape. There was the gash in their side, the one that corresponded with the raider's knife and the scrap of cloth. They had a homemade first aid kit open next to them, preparing the proper supplies to stitch the wound shut. There was a shallow cut under their right eye, and bruises across their body. A bullet had grazed their left calf.

They spoke in a resigned voice, strained with the stress of their wounds. “I was too focused on getting away. I got sloppy.” Charon understood the feeling. It wasn't something he had done for a long time now, but he understood.

Charon put his gun away, and slowly approached them. He sat by their side, careful not to do anything that would irritate their wounds. They watched him, silent.

The two of them sat for a little while, neither of them saying anything. (Name) had laid down completely, eyes closed. Charon stared off into the distance. Both of them were at the mercy of something horrifying, but at different ends of the spectrum in the matter of most likely fates.

Eventually, the human broke the silence. “What… what happens next?”

Charon sighed. “I’m going to l bring you to Ahzrukhal.”

A moment of silence.

“What does he want from me?” Their eyes were still closed, but they wore a more weary expression.

Charon looked away from them. “I don't know.”

“Do you think he's going to kill me?”

Charon grimaced. What was he supposed to say? “That's… typically what happens when he has me take people to him. I bring in people he hates, and he watches me kill them.”

They shuddered.

“But,” he continued, “he seemed fond of you. I don't know what he's going to do.”

“He'll probably start with taking my caps,” they said bitterly.

Charon snorted, a small smirk forming on his face. “Yeah. That's always part of his agenda.”

He looked down at the medical supplies by their makeshift mattress before picking up where (name) left off. They heard him, and tried to sit up. “Hey! What are you-give that back!”

“You're wounded and fatigued. You can't do this yourself.” He pressed a disinfectant pad to the scratch under their eye, and proceeded to do his best cleaning out the gash in their side. They hissed in pain, clutching the cushions underneath them.

Once he began stitching them up, they spoke again. “Why are you bothering with this if I'm just going to be killed?”

He sighed. “There's always a chance you won't be. And if you're going to find a way out, you need to be in much better condition.”

“What about you?”

“What?”

“How will you get out?”

He stopped for a moment. It was a simple question, really. But it weighed heavily. With just five words, they had shown more concern for him than anyone had in a very, very long time. And the innocent sincerity of it was almost painful.

“My contract will eventually end up with someone else. Hopefully, they'll be better than Ahzrukhal.”

They snorted in amusement. “I gotta say, the bar seems pretty damn low.”

“The bar is underground,” he agreed.

“If I don't die, I could always steal it” they offered. “I'd give it to you. You would be free, and we could escape together.”

He grimaced. How did someone so genuinely good last this long out in the wasteland? He'd heard stories about people like this, usually lamenting their deaths. A person trying to be kind meeting another person who just didn't give a shit. Attempting peaceful resolutions, only to be the first one shot down. He supposed this was going to be one of those stories.

“You couldn't… he either keeps it on him, or hides it. He's already had one close call. And I can't actually take my own contract. Somebody else has to have it.”

“Oh.” They sounded defeated, but Charon could still see that they were trying to think of something. He knew that was unlikely. Yet, a tiny part of him somehow managed to hope.

By the time Charon finished tending to their wounds, (name) had long since succumbed to their exhaustion, and they slept soundly beside him. He quietly began to put their things away into their pack for them, he stopped when he saw the small bag they kept their caps in. He inspected it for a moment, before pocketing it. He couldn't do much, but he could make sure Ahzrukhal never took their money. He'd find a place to hide it before he reached underworld.

Once he had put everything away, he put the pack onto their lap before gently picking them up. He was met with a small whimper, but they didn't wake. He hoped the journey back would be as uneventful as the journey he took to find them. Fighting raiders while carrying an unconscious person wasn't easy.

When the museum finally came into view, it was very late. Unfortunately, Willow wasn't out to see him with the human. He wasn't sure what she would do if she was, but at least somebody would know about all this. It was late enough that nobody else was out. Except Cerberus, who had probably fucked off somewhere. Asshole. Good luck for Ahzrukhal, bad luck for everybody else.

With each step he took towards the Ninth Circle, the heavier (name) felt in his arms. He hated this. He hated every second of it. But he had no choice. Ahzrukhal was waiting for him when he entered the bar. When he saw the human in his arms, a sick grin spread across his face.


	4. Wake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Name) and Charon are both confused. He gives what little advice he can. A talk with their captor doesn't reveal all that much.

Waking up was a slow, painful process. (Name) attempted to sit up, open their eyes, move, anything. But their wounds provided a sort of gauzy layer of pain, as if both their mind and body were wrapped in a thick haze. They could hardly be described as conscious at that point. They were partially there- that midpoint between waking and dreaming, where one alternates between lightly dozing and looking up at the ceiling for a couple of moments. 

Sometimes they could hear a radio, sometimes they heard voices, and sometimes it was both. None of the words or songs registered in their brain, instead blending together into white noise. Every once in a while, a gravelly voice would hum along with the radio, and (Name) would feel someone tending to their wounds. When they whimpered in pain, a rough hand would cup the side of their face, thumb gently rubbing their cheek. Faint murmurs could be heard as well, before the hand withdrew and the work began again. The process repeated itself until the person had finished. They pressed something against (Name’s) forehead before slipping away, closing the door quietly. 

Charon sat silently in an old chair. It had been a couple of hours since he had brought (Name) in. He was confused, to say the least. Ahzrukhal was actively caring for them, and he never did anything for anyone unless there was something in it for him. What would he get out of this? Not caps. Charon had hidden those. Whatever it was, it probably wasn't good.

Charon heard a door close, and then footsteps. Ahzrukhal entered the room,a smile on his face. He didn't look at Charon at all when he spoke. “Charon. Go keep an eye on our guest, will you? Let me know in the morning if they've woken up.” Charon wordlessly got up and headed to the room the vaultie was in as his boss left, probably to get some sleep.

He entered as quietly as possible. The human was asleep, breathing softly. Their injuries had received proper attention, better than he could have done. He grit his teeth when he saw that their clothes had been changed. It made sense, it was difficult to treat someone wearing a full bodysuit, but if he knew one person not to trust with anything, it was Ahzrukhal. Well, he actually knew of quite a few people not to trust, but his current employer was definitely the one to worry about at the moment. At least they seemed okay right now.

He sat in the armchair next to their bed. Every once in a while, they would twitch or mumble in their sleep, and he thought they were going to wake up. His body would always go tense when it happened. What would he say? Would they try and talk to him? Show him kindness, despite him being the reason they were here? He knew they would at least have questions, and that he didn't have any answers they would like.

They began mumbling again. Charon swore he heard them ask for their father. They wouldn't stop looking for him, even while they slept. It was sad, but sweet. It was loyalty. The ghoul had been described as “loyal” by many people, good and bad alike. He wasn't. He did things because he had no choice. (Name) did, but they didn't have to. They could give up. They could rest.

He wanted to help them. To get them away, to make sure they were safe from Ahzrukhal and people like him. But all he could do was wait. He wished he could do more.

He didn't know how long it had been when they began to wake. They groaned, and slowly opened their eyes. For a minute, they just stared at the ceiling. Then they looked around, and their eyes rested on him.

“Charon…?” They said in a slow, quiet voice. He didn't say anything, but he met their gaze. They stopped a moment before speaking again. “What is… where are we…?”

He sighed. “The 9th Circle.” They grimaced, looking away. They took a few seconds to assess their injuries.

Gesturing to the bandages, they looked at him in confusion. “Did... he do this?” Charon nodded. They paused. “Do you know why?”

“No. He hasn't told me anything.” They frowned, closing their eyes in thought. “Although he did order me to tell him if you had woken up by morning.” They nodded slowly.

“I don't… know what I'm supposed to do.” They paused, wincing in pain as they tried to sit up. “I don't even know what he wants.”

He could tell they were starting to panic. They were trying not to, and doing a pretty good job given the situation, but they could only do so much. “You should probably try to sleep again,” he found himself saying. “Get as much rest as you can. Try to play along when you're awake.”

“It's easier to play along with someone if you know what to expect,” they said weakly, hands fumbling with their blankets. “But I don't. I don't know what he's going to do to me.” They looked like… they looked like they were trying not to cry.

“If he wanted to kill you, he would have. If he wanted to hurt you, he wouldn't have bothered helping you. It isn't much, but it's what you've got, and you have to work with it.” He was worried that he had been a bit too blunt, but it seemed to help. At least for now. They took a shaky breath, and nodded.

“Y-yeah.” They turned to look at him again. “Thank you. I'm sorry for… whatever the hell all of this is.” It was silent for awhile. Charon tried to think of something else to say, words of comfort maybe, or advice, but he kept coming up blank. It didn't really matter though. Once he actually looked up at them again, he realized they'd fallen asleep. So he waited. He didn't know what would happen in the morning, but he could at least watch over them until then.

He leaned back into the chair, watching the vaultie's chest rise and fall.

A few hours later, the door opened and Ahzrukhal stepped in. He looked at the human, and then to Charon. He then gestured for Charon to follow him out of the room. With one last look at (Name), he left.

Ahzrukhal closed the door behind him quietly. “Did they wake up?” He asked.

“Yes.”

“Did they say anything?”

“They asked where they were, and I told them.”

“Anything else?” 

“Just mumbling. They fell asleep again after that.” He was glad Ahzrukhal hadn't pressed him for specifics. The contract forced him to obey, yes, but he could still technically lie. He could omit certain details. As long as it was a question, and not an order, he could answer however he wanted.

Ahzrukhal nodded, and waved him off. With a sense of dread, he returned to the chair he had been in before his boss had ordered him to watch (Name).

(Name) opened their eyes. They squinted, blinked a few times, and groaned. They turned their head to look for Charon, and froze. It hadn't felt like they'd been out for long- it barely felt like they had slept at all, but it had been long enough for Ahzrukhal to take Charon's place. He was sitting cross-legged in the chair, smiling at them. He had a bottle of water with him, and they wondered if it was for them.

“Sleep well?” He asked, gaze never leaving theirs.

“I, um-” they started, then found themselves rubbing their forehead due to the pain caused just by trying to sit up. “It certainly hurts less than being awake.”

He chuckled, a sound that sent shivers down their spine. “Just take it slow, hmm? You took quite the beating.” As he said this, he placed the water bottle on the small endtable that sat between the bed and the chair. “Here. You should drink something.”

(Name) carefully moved themselves into an upright position, occasionally wincing or stifling groans of pain. They took the water, briefly glancing the ghoul. “Th-thank you.”

As they began sipping the water, he spoke again. “I have a question, if you don't mind.” They involuntarily shuddered. What sort of question? “Why did you leave a day early?” 

They froze. Shit. They desperately tried to think of something believable. “Someone said they saw my father,” they said quietly. (Name’s) anxiety only worsened when he rose an eyebrow, as if in doubt.

“Who.” It was more of a statement than a question. They knew they had friends in underworld- people who would cover for them if asked- but they could tell giving him an actual name wasn't a good idea. 

“One of the drifters, I think? Never actually got their name. I don't really remember all that much-” making sure to rub their forehead again, as if they were trying to recall, they glanced to him again. He was glaring. “I-I'm sorry,” they stammered. His gaze softened a bit. He seemed to buy it. “Why… do you ask?”

“You clearly left in a hurry, unprepared. Didn't make for the best results,” he said as he gestured to their body. “I figured there would have been a reason. You're lucky Charon found you, you know.” Sure. Real lucky.

“Why did he take me here instead of to Barrows?” If they had been less perceptive, they would have missed the way his eye twitched, or how his calm smile dropped for a fraction of a second. 

“It was late. No point in waking him up if I can help you myself.” A lie, obviously. But they couldn't let him know that they knew. Besides, that was another thing. They wouldn't have expected him to know how to do much beyond basic first aid. Maybe he took a few How-to manuals along with all the chems when he stole from Barrows. They might have laughed at the thought if they were in a different situation.

They just nodded again. (Name) made note of their need to be careful with what they asked him. They didn't know what he'd do if he was asked something he couldn't give an answer to. They had heard stories of what he had done when angered- or rather, what he'd made Charon do. They'd been in Underworld for one of those occasions. Someone had been thrown out of the bar and then shot. They remembered Carol suggesting that they stay inside the Inn for awhile, as she had heard it might take a bit to clean up. He seemed to like them, but they didn't want to take any chances.

They still had one question, though. “How… bad is it?” They asked. They heard a raspy chuckle.

“You're going to have a few new scars, but you'll be fine.”

“H-how long will it take to- I mean, I don't want to overstay my welcome.” They looked down sheepishly, hands grasping the edge of their blankets.

“Oh, you don't have to worry about that.” He grinned, a hungry look in his eyes. “You can stay for as long as you need to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long ass wait, I got stuck. And then I got really busy. And then when I got less busy, I was still stuck. You know how it is.


End file.
